


Answers to questions never asked

by Masian (salable_mystic)



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-17
Updated: 2005-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-03 01:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salable_mystic/pseuds/Masian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Orlando vanishes, what is a man to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Fiction. As in: not true. As in: it's all my own invention. Or a parallel universe. Or something. But definitely not really real.
> 
> Author's notes: Inspired by / written for the "Two Line Challenge". The challenge was to write a story inspired by two lines from a song without looking up the rest of the song. Mine were:
> 
> loving is fine if it's not in your mind  
> but i've fucked it up now, too many times  
> -damien rice, the professor &amp; La Fille Danse

Orlando didn't know where he was anymore, nor where he was coming from or where he was going. Well, he sort of did know where he was -- he knew that right now he was in some generic hotel room in some city or other, a room with a big hotel window made just for staring out at the night skyline, with a glass filled with the second best hotel whisky in hand.

Promoting a movie, that's what they called it--Robin and all the movie executives that had been gaining more and more control of his life in recent years and these days almost seemed to own him. He called it less polite names, at least in the silence and privacy of his own mind. Not words to be repeated out loud, for fear of being overheard or photographed when saying them.

On his less bitter days he wondered if the amount of photos that had been made of him by now approached the number of photos Viggo had made in his lifetime. Realistically he knew that they were probably a lot more, but he liked the thought. He liked thinking about Viggo, no matter what the excuse, even if the thoughts were usually sad and melancholy ones.

They had a good thing going, back in New Zealand, Orlando thought, taking a large gulp of the Whisky and grimacing as it burned down his throat. New Zealand . . . where everything had been simpler and so much clearer than things were now. New Zealand. That had definitely been a good year - his best, really, no doubt about it. The movies, the friends, the love. No, don’t call it love - they'd been careful not to call it love, even though it had so blatantly been love. Don’t call it love. Don’t jinx it. Don’t expect too much. Just friends sleeping together and having a good time, sharing some closeness half a world away from most everyone they knew.

Just friends screwing around.

Except, of course, that might have been the intention when it started out, before it had become so much more for him - and, inevitably, in the aftermath, so much less. They hardly spoke anymore these days; they'd drifted apart since the premiere of ‘Return of the King’.

No, they'd started to drift apart even earlier than that - even in the last weeks in New Zealand, if Orlando was honest. When the end of their time together had draw too close to be ignored any longer Orlando had started to close himself off, scared of what their separation would otherwise do to his heart, if he went into it all on a sudden and unprepared. They'd spent as much time together as possible, physically, but emotionally he'd started to draw away from Viggo, trying to separate himself from him gradually, in small increments, rather than all at once tearing himself away. He might have a reputation for being reckless and adventurous, and while that was true, emotionally he was definitely a very cautious person, hesitant to hand his heart over to anyone and even more hesitant to talk about that.

Not that he actually had a heart anymore, Orlando mused, once again taking a too large sip of the whisky. For all intents and purposes, and despite his careful plan to slowly remove his heart from Viggo's grasp, as far as he knew it still had not returned to him, but remained with the older actor. Wherever Viggo went, he never traveled alone - Orlando's heart traveled with him.

Orlando turned from the window, stopping his idle and far too familiar musings and went to the bathroom to get ready for bed and another night filled with dreams of the past. He had stopped caring what he did more and more as time went on - of what he wore, where he went, what he did. Kate was a nice girl, a good friend, and a convenient arrangement. She was in it for her own ends and reasons, but she never minded him whispering someone else’s name in his sleep when they shared a bedroom for appearances sake, and Orlando knew she would never tell. Let Robin think she was being clever and putting them together for their careers - while that was true, Orlando and Kate knew that they were both save and - convenient - for each other.

He was glad she wasn't here, though. She didn't like him moping and being melancholy, insisting that it gained him nothing and cost him too much and it was not as if he was doing anything about it anyway. Correct, but beside the point, Orlando thought. For how could you not miss your heart and ponder on its absence, and long for its return?

Anyway, Orlando was looking forward to having some days off in London soon. Seeing his family would be good and cheer him up. He hoped.

  
+0+0+0+0+0+

The weather was pretty much the same wherever you went, somehow, Viggo mused. Oh, temperatures varied and the amount of water the sky was likely to pour on you at any given moment differed from time to time and place to place, but other than that . . . no differences. And really, seeing how his life had been going, the question of whether he was sweating and thirsty in Morocco or wet and shivery on a cold Danish winter day when somehow the sun seemed never to shine really seemed to make little difference or be of little importance to his general state of mind and the life he found himself living. The life he found himself living - another one of those strange constructs his brain sometimes came up with, bemusing to himself but nevertheless just how he thought - and he could not help thinking and feeling as if he sometimes, for all the immediacy and intenseness he tried to instill into every single moment of time, he was really only a passenger or a spectator on this ship called life, traveling uncharted waters and following unmapped currents without much influence from his part, beyond small immediate decisions of which direction the ship should go for the next immediate future.

For whatever had actually brought him to his current situation, it had certainly not been of his choosing - nor could he see any way to correct the situation or any mistake or wrong decision or even any decisive moment in his past that could have set the course irrevocably in the direction of where he now found himself. Random chance, really, and things somehow falling apart when they should have been holding together tightly was all that he could identify.

Maybe also feelings left unvoiced and too much hesitation where and when there should have been action and the other way around, but nothing big enough not to easily be overshadowed by other things and events that were in balance and good and positive events then and good memories now.

No, he really could not tell how it came to be that he ended up here, alone and lonely, when his ideas for the future had seen himself in his more daring moments clearly with a familiar and beloved face by his side. He also had no idea how to remedy the situation. Actually, he did not think that it really could be remedied anymore - too much time had passed for that, too much silence. Too many days of hesitation and waiting for a better moment or a meeting to bring the awkward and painful topic up. So, he was alone and was going to stay that way, for however long it'd take his heart to get over Orlando.

Viggo wasn't hopeful on that account - it had been years and the feelings were no less intense, nor were the moments of seeing something and wanting to share it any less often. No, it would clearly if it was to happen at all take some time yet, this getting over Orlando and maybe finding someone else, thing. If it happened at all.

And Viggo was actually quite sure that he did not want to get over Orlando.

He loved him.

He seemed to always have loved him, through the heady days in New Zealand they spent together to the empty nights in a cold and too big bed in Idaho he spent alone. He loved Orlando, and his heart was quite happy staying steadfast and true to that, even if it was something that made him sad and lonely.

Love did not care for inconveniences like that. Love simply was, Viggo had learned. Love was a gift. One to cherish, no matter how bitter it turned out to be.

And if loving Orlando, against all his wished, meant being alone and pouring all his pain into his artwork and poetry, then that was what love meant to be for him, and he was going to cherish it. And if anyone wondered why his creative work had taken such a turn to the melancholy in recent years - well, let them wonder.

  
+0+0+0+0+0+

Robin would probably have a field day with him once she found a way of catching up with him, but right now Orlando did not care much about that at all.

He was finally done with promoting the movie and had ten days off, truly off - with no appearances, no press interviews, no parties to show his face at, no nothing. He had originally tried to keep his schedule clear so that he could go and see his family for a week, but now he did not feel like doing that at all. He loved them dearly and was close to both his mother and sister - or as close as his lifestyle these days permitted him to be, anyway - but they both knew him far too well and had become more and more worried and pushy whenever he had been home the last couple of times.

And he really didn't want to worry them more than they already were - all right, he did not want anyone to try to pry information from him either, and he had enough of being fussed about.

He needed to get away for a while, from everything. So he had told Kate that he would be back in ten days, bought a pay as you talk mobile phone, promised to let here know where was going once he knew, laboriously put the most essential numbers into it - all the ones that might connect him to Viggo, even if only through someone else - a guy could dream, right? - left his regular phone in his flat in Los Angeles, sent Robin an email informing her that he was going to vanish to places unknown and not to be contacted or looked for - that way she could not shout at him and try to talk him out of it - and gone to the airport with some carryon luggage.

He had not bought a ticket to anywhere in advance, but simply decided to go wherever fancy took him the moment he stood at the airport.

Which was how he had ended up where he was right now, on a train from Copenhagen Airport to Nykoebing Falster, where he would try to find a place that let out holiday homes on the Danish coast. It was late summer, the weather was nice, and a week on the beach in a house all his own sounded wonderful to him.

Not that he had wanted to go to Denmark - he had actually not wanted to go anywhere that reminded him of his former lover, determined to leave all memories of Viggo firmly behind for the week, but then Copenhagen had sounded like a good destination, he'd remembered Viggo telling him of how wonderfully tranquil and quite the Baltic Sea was, with no tides to speak of and a low salt content ideal for swimming in, and it was not as if they'd actually ever been to Denmark together.

And if his former lover was half Danish - hey, so were about 5 million other people, at least.

And it was really pretty unfair to hold that fact against them, wasn't it? Besides, avoiding a whole country for as little a thing as that was being pretty silly. It was not as if you were talking about an allergy to a pastry and all that, for god’s sake!

And all that.

  
+0+0+0+0+0+

  
"Dad? Where are you, Dad? Dad, there's someone on the phone for you!"

Henry's voice cut through the stillness of the late Saturday morning. He was visiting his parents for the weekend, home from college to see some of his local friends and spend a bit of time with his parents.

His mother was going to be picking him up for an afternoon of shopping in the city and he would spend the night at her house, but right now Henry was still in very casual and ripped jeans, enjoying a slow morning of hanging out with his father and just catching up on things.

Viggo had wandered off some minutes ago to take a shower and now Henry hoped that he'd already be done and able to take the call - the girl on the other end of the line sounded like it was urgent.

Henry walked to the bathroom, taking the cordless phone with him and knocked on the door. "Dad? Are you done in the shower? There's someone on the phone for you. Dad?"

The door to the bathroom opened and Henry came face to face with his father, who had only a towel slung around his waist and whose hair was still wet from the shower - it looked like he had only had time to run a towel through it once or twice before hearing Henry call.

"Who is it, Henry?" he asked now.

"A girl called Kate something-or-other for you. She sounds like it is urgent. Didn't catch her last name. Sorry." Henry shrugged apologetically.

"That's all right, Henry," Viggo replied absentmindedly, reaching for the phone, his mind already going through an inventory of all the Kate’s he knew and reasons why they might try to call him.

He shifted his stance, taking a hold of the towel with the hand that was not holding the phone, and turned to go back into the bathroom. Henry shrugged and left his dad to it, content to wait for him in the kitchen. His coffee was getting cold, after all, and he really did not like cold coffee.

  
+0+0+0+0+0+

  
Viggo sat down on the rim of the bathtub, back straight and a drop or two of water from his wet hair running down his back, to be soaked up in the towel.

"Hello?"

The voice that answered him on the other side of the phone sounded like a young girl.

"Hello? Mr. Mortensen? I am really sorry to disturb you - and especially with this - but I have run out of other people to call and you are pretty much my only hope left."

Viggo frowned. If this was yet another fan who had found his number out from who knows where and who was about to tell him her life’s story, he really wasn't in the mood for it. He didn't see enough of Henry at the best of times and really wanted to spend the morning with his son.

"Listen, Kate. Thank you very much for calling me, but I am afraid that I cannot help you. If you want to send me a letter I will be happy to read it. Please send it to my publicist. Do you need the address? She also handles all my autograph requests for me, but I promise you that I will get your letter and read it."

Stunned silence answered him, and then he heard what could only be muffled laughing.

Viggo frowned again.

“Ah, sorry about that, Mr. Mortensen. I'm sorry. I should have introduced myself. My name is Kate Bosworth. I am, for all intents and purposes, Orlando Bloom's girlfriend. I am calling you because I know the two of you were once very close and that you are very important to him."

'Were?' Viggo thought, suddenly terribly concerned. 'Were?' Had something happened to Orlando? But no, he would undoubtedly have heard about it, and the girl would not be able to laugh if it had. And what did she mean with ‘by all intents and purposes’? Viggo shelved that thought for now and concentrated on the more important question if his Orlando was all right.

"Has something happened to Orlando? Is he all right?"

"Well, yes and no. I have not heard anything to the contrary so I assume he is all right. But Orlando has vanished, Mr. Mortensen."


	2. Chapter 2

It was quite a while later before Viggo got off the phone with Kate.

He had been singularly unsuccessful in helping her at all, which quite disturbed him for some reason. He had the feeling that he should know what was going on in Orlando's life, should still be an integral part of it, even though they had not really spoken at all recently and it had been years since they were really close in reality.

In his dreams they were still close, had always been and probably would always be, too. But in reality - no.

No, he didn't know where Orlando had gone, couldn't even guess where he might be. He'd promised to ask around, though, maybe one of the hobbits had a clue, as far as he knew they were closer to Orlando than he was these days.

He had also agreed to meet Kate for coffee in the afternoon, to pool together what they had found out and to see if they might not be able to come up with a solution or a clue, a place Orlando could be.

Not that he was worried too much - Orlando was more than capable of taking care of himself - he wasn't a baby, after all, and since, according to Kate, he'd left a note that he wanted to be away from it all for a while Viggo had more than half a mind to simply let him be and told Kate as much.

He was still going to meet her, though - he was interested in what the woman sharing Orlando's life might be like - and more than a little jealous, as well.

He wanted to dislike her, but she seemed like a nice and decent girl so far.

She'd also told him that Robin Baum, Orlando and Kate's publicist, had talked about getting the police in on the search, and he'd volunteered to help come up with arguments to dissuade her from doing so.

Even if it was done on the quiet and without anyone the wiser, which Viggo doubted to be possible, Orlando would not be pleased with it at all. He'd earned himself the right to simply go away without people hunting him down.

In Viggo's opinion, Robin was far more annoyed and angry with Orlando for vanishing and getting out of her clutches for a bit without her previous consent than worried for his safety. He had labeled her a rabid control freak a long time ago, and seen no reason to change that opinion of her since.

So, he was meeting Kate and was both looking forward to it and dreading it. Anything connected to Orlando was good, as his sad collection of gossip papers proved, but meeting his girlfriend and thus burying whatever faint hope there was of getting him back one day by the truth that Orlando had moved on standing right in front of him was bad.

  
+0+0+0+0+0+

  
The café they had chosen to meet in was a small and quiet one, known for its discretion and quiet corners to talk in. They both knew it, so agreeing on a booth to meet in had been no problem - neither one of them wanted to chance meeting in front and going in together - the last thing either one of them needed was gossip about the two of them being seen together.

Kate knew what Viggo looked like, of course, but as he approached the table she had to admit that photographs did not really do him justice.

He radiated an incredible presence and poise, and his eyes up close just had to be an incredibly warm blue. She'd bet they'd crinkle most charmingly around the corners when he smiled. It was easy to understand why Orlando had fallen for him, she thought to herself as he approached the table.

Now she'd have to see what in his personality had kept Orlando - so tightly in fact that he still yearned for him years later, to the exclusion of anyone else in his heart.

She'd see what she thought of Viggo Mortensen, if he was worthy of Orlando, and then she'd decide whether she'd try to get them back together or not. She loved Orlando dearly as a friend, and she'd be dammed before she did something to hurt him even more.

No, Viggo Mortensen would definitely have to pass her test, or this would be the first and last time they'd meet.

All this flashed through her mind in the time it took him to walk up to the table to her, and she took care to show nothing of these thoughts in her expression as she rose to meet him, carefully smiling a friendly smile as she shook his hand.

His return handshake was nice and firm, but the uncertain smile and searching look on his face confused her for a second, until she realised that, if he still had feelings for Orlando - which she sincerely hoped he did, for Orlando's sake - and thought her to be his girlfriend, he was bound to be critical and probably sincerely wanted to dislike her. Well, she planned to give him little reason to do that, if all went as she had planned. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Mortensen. I’m so glad you had the time to come here and meet me."

He sat down opposite her at the small booth and his smile turned more determined with his reply: "Please, call me Viggo. And I always have the time to help Orlando or one of his friends."

He seemed completely sincere, which pleased Kate. So far, so good! "Call me Kate, then, Viggo. After all, we are collaborators of a sort now, aren't we?"

‘Even if you don't know the extent of it’, she thought, hiding a smile. ‘Collaborators, indeed.’

  
+0+0+0+0+0+

  
Orlando really liked it here, he had to admit. The weather was nice, sunny but not too warm, with a fresh wind blowing. The house he had rented was very nice, small and cosy with a living room, a small studio kitchen, three bedrooms and a bathroom with the one luxury of the house, a hot tub.

It had been more expensive for that, but it wasn't like he was short of money, now, was it? Short of private time and being his own person, maybe, but he could have rented a castle for his holiday if he had wanted to.

There had been one in the prospectus of houses to choose from at the agency, but while it had made him smile to think about living in a castle for a week, he had not given it any serious thought at all.

He was no prince, and eleven bedrooms, two pools and three dining rooms seemed plainly ridiculous for one person. And lonely as hell. Too many halls to haunt, where there would be no sound but his own footsteps to break the silence. No, this house with its warm wood furnishings and colorful carpets on the wooden floor suited him just fine.

The beach was only a three minute walk away, through a small wood and over the dunes, and he had only met two early morning swimmers on his sunrise stroll. Sidi would have loved it here, he was sure of it. He missed his dog, but knew that taking him had been out of the question. No, Sidi was safe with Kate while he strolled the beaches here alone.

Or went to do some shopping, as it were.

The woman in the holiday agency had given him a map and marked out some small local attractions as well as shops, and one of them seemed to only be a ten minute walk away. He could have taken the car that he'd rented at the train station, but he decided to walk - he didn't need more than he could carry, and the morning was so nice and he really yearned to be out and about, after spending all of yesterday on planes and trains. No, air was what he needed, then maybe a nap to get over the jetlag quickly, and then a nice long walk on the beach.

Yes, that definitely sounded like a plan.

  
+0+0+0+0+0+

  
"So, you are saying that Orlando has vanished and no one knows where he went. And you think I might know where he has gone?"

"Well … in a nutshell: yes."

He looked nice when he was confused, Kate decided. And he definitely seemed to be confused now. Which she could understand - she knew he and Orlando had not talked in months and before that not very often.

Now he looked contemplative for a moment and then seemed to decide against a question he wanted to ask, and opted for, "Well, I don't know where he might be. We've not spoken recently, Orlando and I ..."

"When was the last time you spoke?" Kate asked, genuinely curious.

Viggo smiled, seemingly amused by the memory. "In February, I think. I called him, out of the blue. I do that with people sometimes." He laughed. "I saw this shirt that reminded me of him, of how he was back in New Zealand. He would have loved it then. Pink with blue dots and frills. Absolutely outrageous. You'd probably go blind if he was around you wearing it. Or you'd wish you were blind. I just, you know, called him, not thinking about it. Just like that." He paused. "He laughed when I told him about it, said he'd have loved it, but that Robin would probably have a fit if he wore it now and that we all changed and things changed and ..."

His voice had grown lower and now Viggo seemed uncomfortable. He shrugged. "So, yeah, that's the last time we spoke. Things change, indeed."

Kate had had to smile at the description of the shirt, knowing for certain that Orlando would have loved it. She had put a shirt Orlando had left lying around on the couch back into his wardrobe once and knew that behind all the serious black and white shirts and clothing he wore these days, carefully preserved and obviously cherished, were the colorful shirts he had used to wear. "I am sure he would have loved it, Viggo."

"Yeah, once he would have." Viggo shrugged. "Now, I don't know. Talking about it seemed to make him uncomfortable. Or talking to me about it, anyway."

“So what did you do?”

Viggo shrugged yet again, looking down, not meeting her gaze. “What can you do? Said sorry, gotta go. Then like a fool bought the shirt anyway. I still have it. . . .”

He stopped rather abruptly and Kate thought that he'd probably just told her more than he had planned or wanted to. And he’d bought the shirt. ‘And kept it’, she thought gleefully. Things were looking good, indeed.

She made a decision to be up front with him: "Viggo, listen - I know we've only just met and our only connection is Orlando, and that you will probably not appreciate me being so frank about all this, but I will be honest and straightforward with you, okay?” He looked at her, studied her for a moment, and nodded, clearly unsure where this was going, but willing to go along. Kate took a deep breath. ‘Here goes nothing,’ she thought, and went on: “I called you and asked you if you knew where Orlando went, I thought you might know where Orlando might have gone, because I know how close the two of you once were. He told me."

Viggo looked an odd mix between uncomfortable and relieved.

For a moment Kate almost feared that he'd leave, but he apparently decided on the relieved bit. He blew his breath out in a deep sigh, looked down to study his hands for a moment - a moment in which Kate keenly and to her own amazement missed the look of those blue eyes - and then looked back up at her and said: "Thank you for that, Kate. Thank you for being honest. I won’t deny that I don't still have feelings for Orlando, but I want you to know that there's truly been nothing between us since New Zealand. We're not even friends anymore, really. So I’m not holding back when I say I don't know where he has gone.” He went on, his voice lower, hesitant: “We're not even friends."

Now he definitely looked sad, Kate thought gleefully. And he was being open with her. Good!

"I know, Viggo. I am, for lack of a better word, heavily involved in Orlando's life. While I in no way know everything he does or everywhere he goes, I do think I would know if he was seeing someone else, seeing you." And, oh, would I know if he was seeing you, baby! He'd be over the moon ecstatic and probably unable to stop grinning for weeks! "But thank you for being honest, too."

"Well, the least I could do, isn't it? Truth for truth. And I don't believe in lies or covering things up."

Kate smiled. "Yes, Orlando had told me quite a bit about your political opinions and how outspoken you are about them, so I didn’t think you would be anything else. Good for you. I wish I was as courageous as you."

My god, I bet he just about almost blushed, Kate thought, amazed. Shame he settled for the slightly embarrassed smile, nice though it is. So, Orlando speaking nice of him can make him blush. Good, good. This was looking better and better. Now she really needed to find out his feelings about Orlando. That's what it all depended on. ‘Please Viggo, please...’ she mentally crossed her fingers. ‘Time to get back to the topic, then.’

"So you don't know where Orlando might be?"

"Like I said - no, no idea. Sorry. I checked with Sean and two of the hobbits, but they don't know, either. I didn't know who else to ask without arousing suspicion. Have you spoken to his family?"

Kate nodded. "I have. His mother knows he's gone away, too. But no one knows where." Oh, she was going to hell for her lies, she knew. But it WAS all for a good cause and that's what counted, wasn’t it?

"Now, I’m not worried about him, but I would like to know where he has gone, just to be sure he is okay. And I really want to stop Robin from trying to find him. If he needs his time off as badly as he thinks he is doing, Robin is the last person he needs on his trail, useful though she is."

"Useful, yes," Viggo grimaced. "Useful at turning you into someone you never wanted to be, maybe. Useful if you want someone to take over your life and leave you no freedom. Useful. Like a hyena," he paused. "Ah, but then you are with her too, aren't you? Sorry. I got carried away. I don't appreciate the system too much, as you probably know."

Kate smiled. "I know. And I am aware that Robin can sometimes be a little too, ah, persistent. Hence my reluctance to help her in any way with this."

Yes, he definitely had nice crinkles around his eyes when he smiled, and his eyes turned the most ravishing blue then. Oh, she so understood why Orlando had fallen for him. And he was nice and intelligent, to boot. It was almost enough for her to go for him herself, she thought. Not that she would, but she definitely was a little envious of Orlando. What a fool to not have grasped such a treasure with both hands and not let it go. Men!

"Has he taken Sidi?" Viggo asked suddenly, curious.

"No, he hasn't. Sidi's staying with me. Why?" Kate replied, wondering where he was going with this.

"Just thinking, you know ... whether he's taken a plane and where he might have gone. I think if it had been possible to take Sidi, he would have. So he's probably not in the country anymore."

Kate nodded. That made sense.

"But, no, that's all guesswork. I once thought I might have known how Orlando thinks, sometimes, but I don't anymore." He grimaced. "No idea."

Silence reigned between them and they both studied the remains of the coffee in their cups.

"You might try asking Ian, Kate. There were some things Orlando would talk about only with him, in New Zealand, towards the end. Maybe they still are close."

Kate nodded. She knew what Orlando had talked to Ian about in New Zealand, at least some of it, what Orlando had told her. Most of it had been about Viggo and being gay in the movie industry. About coming out and careers and all that. Nothing had come of it, obviously, since Viggo was here and alone and Orlando in Denmark and alone, but she knew Orlando had thought about it all intensively then. Before he and Viggo drifted apart. In the good days, as Orlando called them.

"I might try that, yes. That's a good idea, Viggo. Thank you."

He drained his coffee. "Always glad to help Orlando, as I said. Or you," he paused. "I know this might sound strange coming from me - and it might be a bit up front and honest and all that, you know - " they both smiled at the reminder of her earlier statement " - but I just wanted to sat that it was good getting to meet you, Kate. From my impression of you now you do seem like a truly good person, and ... I am glad that Orlando has found you. Has found someone good to be happy with."

He had looked at his hands, not her, when saying this, but now he looked up to meet her gaze and she saw the sincerity in it. Sadness as well, so much sadness and regret, but he was being sincere.

Her heart went out to him then - if he still loved Orlando, like she suspected he did, this must hurt, saying it. She wasn't sure she would be as gracious if their positions were exchanged. She hoped she would be, but she wasn't sure she could be. This was one hell of a guy.

One hell of a guy who also made motions to leave, she noticed. Not good. She wasn't done with him yet - and she really needed him to stay a little longer. She hoped she could make him stay.

With a start she realised that he was still waiting for a response from her. What an awkward moment to drift into thoughts!

"Thank you, Viggo. I appreciate that. And I can only return the compliment. You seem like a terrific guy. If we were single I'd go for you myself, you know?"

He laughed at that, a nice, full laugh that had nothing artificial about it. "Thank you, Kate. I'd take you up on it, but you do seem to be taken ... and I'd never do something like that to Orlando. Never. I'd never hurt him on purpose."

Ah, you don't know how good that is to know, Kate thought. ‘Strike!’

Kate studied him, intently, wondering what to do now. He looked back, curious what was causing this intense study. She decided that it was time to take a risk. Otherwise he would leave now, and she really wanted to help Orlando.

She only hoped he could forgive her if it didn't work out the way she hoped it would.

She took a deep breath: "Are we still being up front and honest with one another, Viggo?"

He nodded, confused. "Sure. We can be. Sure. If you want?"

"Good. Do you need to be anywhere soon?"

"No. I have the rest of the afternoon and evening, if you'd like."

Kate nodded. "Good. I would. What do you say we get some more coffee - and then I really need to ask you something. And tell you something, maybe."

"Sure," Viggo replied. He had no idea where this was going, but willing to go along with it. He was intrigued.

  
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Orlando's feet hurt.

A lot.

The woman in the tourist information had told him that there was a lovely walk leading from the town he was staying in to the tip of the island, along the beach. A couple of hours of good walking in the sun, with the sun shining on your back and on to the hat you were wearing, along the shoreline.

Letting the waves and the sound of the ocean and the wind on his face soothe him had sounded like an ideal way to spend the afternoon, but clearly he was not used to walking on sand for a long time. Other than that, thought, he was having a great time.

He let his thoughts wander, watched the seagulls fly overhead and the sandpipers playing tag with the surf, and the water lap around his feet. His trousers were soaked up to his ankles from waves he had not been able to evade in time.

This was the life, he thought. He could do this for weeks. Just letting his thoughts drift where they wanted. No one who wanted anything of him, not needing to be anything other than he was, not needing to smile when he wanted to frown, not needing to be polite to stranger after stranger. This was definitely good.

He was carrying some sandwiches he had made with the bread he had bought earlier, as well as two apples and two bottles of water. He could have dinner right here on the beach, if he liked. Or in the town he was walking to. He could walk back or take the bus home. Decisions, decisions. And all of them his and his alone to make. Bliss.


	3. Chapter 3

Their coffee replenished, Viggo looked curiously at Kate, waiting for whatever it was she wanted to ask him. He felt he might know what it might be, but the question nevertheless surprised him when it came.

"So, what happened to you and Orlando?"

What happened to him and Orlando? What a good question. He didn't know. There had been a time when he'd thought they'd spend the rest of their lives together. When he thought he had finally found his home, his balance, the place where he belonged. He now knew that he had, for he had been restless and drifting ever since, without Orlando. But what had happened?

"To be honest -" again, the shared smile. Almost strangers being brutally honest with one another, for reasons slightly beyond him, but refreshing nevertheless. Yes, this was a girl he could like - "I don't know, Kate. Nothing. Too much. On my part, too much fear of a negative reply to that one, to that all important question. Not wanting to hold Orlando back. Hollywood is cruel to couples that don't fit into its rules. And Orlando so wanted to shine. Could shine so well... . I did not want him to come to regret - me. Never that. To feel like I had become his cage. He needed to fly. He had, he has, the wings for it. So I let him fly. And how he is flying... ." He paused and shook his head. "That's not the answer you were expecting, is it?"

Kate shook her head. "Not quite, no. It's a good one, though. An honest one."

"Yeah," he laughed, bitterly. "Seems I can be honest and unafraid now, when it’s all too late. And with you - knowing you understand, knowing you love him. And I mean that in the best possible way. Like I said, I am genuinely glad he has found you - and you have found him. I want him to be happy. That's what counts. More than anything."

"Viggo, I sincerely wish Orlando could’ve been here right now to hear that. To know how much you love him. Still."

Viggo looked down. "I do, don't I? Sorry for being so ... I want you to know I respect - you and Orlando. I'll not do anything to jeopardise that. I am no threat to you. You know? I mean, I ... ." He was babbling, and he knew it. So he stopped, embarrassed.

Why of all things had he just told Kate that? What the hell must she think of him now? An old freak that lusted after her boyfriend. Joy. And to think he had thought she might like him. Well, she was bound to not do so anymore, now. He sighed.

"Sorry, Kate. I think I'll go now."

He was surprised when she put her hand over his, stopping him. And even more surprised by the firm tone of her reply: "Like hell you are! You can't just say something like that and then go away!"

She shook her head and went on in a gentler tone. "Sit down, please, Viggo. Sit down and trust me, okay? There's nothing you can say right now that can offend me."

He sat down and cautiously looked her in the eye. She seemed sincere, so he relaxed a bit.

"There isn't? Why?"

She shook her head, then leaned forward and took his hand again, looking intently in his eyes. "No, there isn't. But you need to be completely honest with me now. Please, Viggo. Please. Don't hold back. Not on my account. I need you to be honest. Can you do that? Can you trust me with this?"

He nodded, cautiously, deciding to trust her. Hell, he'd said this much and she was still talking to him and being friendly. Why not?

"Yes." He took a deep breath. "Yes, I can. I will be. For you Kate, I will be."

"Good." She paused and it seemed to him that she was carefully selecting her words. "Okay. Here is my question for you, Viggo: Do you still love Orlando?"

Viggo sighed. He had been expecting this. He almost considered lying, but decided against it. He had promised to be honest, and it was not as if she didn't know already, anyway. ‘So here goes nothing,’ he thought.

"Yes. More than anything. I love Orlando, Kate. He became my home, my balance, my everything. He took my heart with him when he left, and he still has it. Yes, I fucking love him, Kate. I never said the words before, never to him, but they are true. I love your boyfriend - I'm sorry."

His confession over, Viggo looked down and closed his eyes. Now she knew. Time for her to leave him sitting here, then.

But Kate did something he really didn't expect. She squeezed his hand, and he heard the chair squeak as she leaned back. But her words shocked him into looking up at her, startled. For she said, in a satisfied voice: "Oh thank god. Good. Good. No, fucking fantastic. Viggo. Thank you!"

All right. He was completely confused, now. And he must have looked it, too, for after a moment of what could only be called gloating Kate leaned forward again and looked him in the eyes: "Here is my confession now, Viggo. My truth: There is nothing sexual at all between me and Orlando. We are good friends, yes, but nothing more. I am his beard."

"His beard?"

‘His beard? Kate was his beard? Not his girlfriend? Orlando was not with Kate? Orlando was with ... a guy?’ Viggo felt his heart break all over again. He grimaced in pain.

Kate must have seen it, for she quickly put his hand on his again. "No! No, Viggo, not like that! There's no one else. What I meant is that Orlando and I only pretend to be involved with each other. It suits us both. But there's no one else Orlando loves. Or, yes there is, but there's no one he is seeing or involved with right now. No one in his life right now. Only in his dreams."

‘Why was she telling him all this? Orlando was single but yet not? There was someone he loved but no one he was seeing? Alone but taken? Why was she telling him all this?’

Viggo felt his heart stutter, then speed up to about twice its previous pace. He could only think of one reason why Kate might be telling him all this, for she did not strike him as an intentionally cruel woman. Still ... dare he hope?

"Kate?" he asked in an embarrassingly small and insecure voice.

Kate took a deep breath and met his hopeful gaze squarely: "Viggo, Orlando loves you. Desperately. Still. Absolutely. Beyond all reason. He loves you. No one else. Only you."

Viggo thought he must be dreaming. Then he smiled. Then he grinned. Orlando loved him. Orlando loved him! Orlando fucking loved him!!

Kate grinned back, glad to see his delight. This might work out, after all, she thought. Thank god.

"Why are you telling me this, though, Kate?"

"Honestly? Because I am sick and tired of seeing Orlando mope about. He's my friend, Viggo, and it breaks my heart to see him so sad and lonely. Plus I am tired of him always telling me the same things when he is lonely and drunk. I figure I at least deserve some new stories about you, now and again." She smiled. "So I told you. I want you to go and make him smile. In fact, I charge you to go and make him smile. Go and tell him what you told me. He deserves to be happy. You deserve to be happy. And I have a feeling you could be deliriously happy together."

Viggo took a deep breath. Tell Orlando? Kate made it all sound so simple. Tell Orlando, after years of silence, after drifting apart, after becoming strangers to one another? Worse, stranger than strangers, for fear of saying the wrong thing? Could he do that? But if Kate said Orlando loved him ... how could he not go and tell him? He'd not managed to get over Orlando now, years later. So he knew it would not happen any time soon, if at all. And it was not like he was risking much, was he? They weren't speaking anyway. They were no longer friends. No, all he would be risking was his heart. And at least he would have told him then. Maybe that would give him closure. At least Orlando would know that he loved him. The words would finally be out in the open.

Kate sat across from him, silent now and content to let him think. Content to wait for him to make up his mind and gather his courage.

What did he have to loose, really? Only his pride. Everything else, his heart and soul, Orlando already had anyway, unaware of it though he was. He wasn't that proud a man anyway, not when it came to this, and maybe letting Orlando know of the heart that was following him wherever he went would not be so bad. And there was always Kate's word that Orlando loved him. And he had no reason not to trust Kate. Why should she lie to him? Yes, he'd tell him. For better or worse.

He took a deep breath. "All right. I trust you, Kate. Where is he?"

Kate smiled. So he had seen through her little game. Well, Orlando would not love someone stupid.

"He's in Denmark, Viggo." She took a piece of paper out of her pocket. "Here is the address. Only his mother and I know it, as far as I am aware."

Viggo took the small piece of paper and looked at it. Denmark? Interesting. He knew the island - in fact, he remembered talking with Orlando about it, once. About showing him Denmark. Now, perhaps he still could. Denmark in June was lovely. This might work out, after all.

"When is Orlando needed anywhere again?"

Kate smiled. So, he moves quickly, does he, once his mind is made up? Good, good. "He has to be in New York at a screening - Tuesday in three weeks. Nothing before then that can’t be moved."

Viggo smiled. "Good. Can I call you to sort out his schedule in case - you know ..." he looked insecure again, all of a sudden. Kate squeezed his hand. "Indeed you can. Robin works for both of us, after all. "

"Good. Thank you, Kate. I appreciate this a lot. I cannot tell you how much. Thank you for giving me hope again, after all this time. Thank you for a chance to get back my heart and my life. Thank you." He leaned over the table and kissed her cheek, paused, then shook his head ruefully: "Now, I know I said I had the rest of the evening, but I do think I have a plane to find and some clothes to pack and ..." Viggo's voice ran out.

"... and your future to regain. I know. Go. Run. Godspeed, Viggo, and give Orlando a hug from me when you see him. And let me know how it goes!"

"I promise, Kate." Viggo got up and came around the table, to hug her as she stood up. He buried his face in her hair and hugged her so hard it almost hurt. "Thank you. I hope the future will give me the chance to be as good a friend to you as you are being to Orlando - and me."

She blinked away some tears. Yes, this was the right thing to do. And she looked forward to having them both in her life. "So do I. Go, Viggo."

He squeezed her again, then held her at arms length, grinned, turned and walked out of the restaurant.

Kate watched him go, grinned ruefully, emptied her cup and went about settling the bill. Oh, she was so going to make them both pamper her for a week. Or maybe a month. Yes. at least a month. If only it all worked out for them and they went about it like sensible people, instead of like men!

  
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Orlando sat on the bus back to the small village his holiday home was in. The sun had sunk while he was having his sandwiches on the beach and now night had fallen. He'd wanted to walk back, but sense and his sore feet had prevailed, and he was now quite glad to be sitting on the bus and watching the night pass by outside. This had been a good day. If only he had someone to share it with, then it would have been perfect.

No, he thought. Not someone. Viggo. If only he had had Viggo to share it with. Then it would have been perfect. He sighed. Well, it was not like that was about to happen, was it? So he might as well be glad that he had had a good day, instead of be sad and yearn for the stars. Yearn for the stars when he already had the moon in his hands. How greedy was that?

So what if he wasn't happy. Many people weren't. He was content. He was healthy. He was successful. Never mind that success came with a lot of downsides and that he'd by now gladly trade it all in for love. Do some theatre here and there, get some random job, make enough money to live on. He didn't need the jetset and the fame and all the money. There had been a time when that had been what he thought he'd wanted, but that was long ago now. Now he knew that it wasn't true. It was all empty, so terribly empty. He'd trade it all in an instant if only he could have the one person back that meant more than anyone else to him.

If only he could have his heart back.

He sighed. Yes, it seemed definitely like content days were the thing to aim for. He could do that. He could work at being content. Content was good. Yes. Good. Content was good. Happy was an illusion, anyway. Something for other people. Something he had gotten one chance at and screwed up, for fear of loosing what he had.

Yeah, that had worked well. Fear risking friendship by mentioning love. Have nothing left anyway. That had worked well. Not. If only he could go back and change things. He'd not stay silent. He'd much rather risk his heart and be rejected, than stay in safe silence and let everything slip away, to be left with nothing anyway.

He shook his head and watched his face reflected in the bus window, with the darkness gliding by behind it. His eyes looked awfully dark and sad in the reflection gazing back at him.

He snorted, making the woman two seats over look at him curiously. He ignored her. Sad and dark, huh. Eyes, meet life.


	4. Chapter 4

Viggo was nervous. What the hell had he been thinking? Getting on a plane to Denmark on the off chance that a girl he barely knew, who was or was not as close to Orlando as she said to be, actually knew how Orlando felt about him. Deciding to simply go and tell Orlando something he had not told him years ago, had kept to himself even when the reasons for not speaking up back then had become invalid - all because some slip of a girl, too thin and bony and young, claimed to know what was good for him. Claimed to know how Orlando felt.

What if she was wrong? What if Orlando was going to reject him, or worse, reject him and laugh at him? Viggo knew that he was being unreasonable and that the Orlando he had once known would not be so cruel as to laugh at anyone who professed to laugh him - not in their face, anyway - but the short nap he had so far had on the plane had featured an all too vivid dream of Orlando turning away from him in disgust and then turning back and laughing a cruel laugh right into Viggo's face. He had looked so cold and mocking in Viggo's dream that he now truly dreaded standing in front of Orlando with his confession, for fear of that scene being realized.

He had almost cried in his sleep, he was not sure he would be able to face such a scene a second time.

But then, he told himself, for what seemed like the thousandth time: what did he have to loose? Not much. What if Orlando laughed in his face? His heart might break, but, well, since he'd long since left it in someone else's care, would he even feel it do so?

Of course he would.

But then, that might be a good thing, too. Closure, even if of a terrible kind.

And what if Kate was right? What if Orlando loved him? He owed it to both of them to take that chance.

But what did Kate know?

Viggo sighed as the same old round of thoughts began to run through his head yet another time. He willed the plane to fly faster so he could get there sooner. Or before he went mad with the waiting, anyway. If he was going to do this he wanted to do it right now.

To have it over with.

To do it before his courage failed him after all.

  
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Orlando lay in bed, reading a book and listening to the wind in the trees outside. It had picked up quite a bit in the time since he walked on the beach and he could hear the waves crash on the shore from his bedroom through the slightly open window. Nifty constructions, those arrestable windows, but he supposed you needed them this close to the beach and with the almost constant wind blowing here.

It was very late and he knew that he should be asleep, but his noontime nap had screwed up his sleeping rhythm and so he was not too tired yet. And the book he was reading was interesting. Reading in bed had always been one of his favorite ways of spending a quiet evening, and he fully enjoyed being able to do so now. Reading in bed until you fell asleep was definitely a good thing to be doing.

Not only was it fun to do, it also kept you from thinking about how lonely you were in your bed all alone, and about who you would like to have in it with you. Of how good it had felt to rest his head on Viggo's shoulder back when they had been reading in bed together, either reading the same book or different ones and then quoting interesting passages to one another.

Or Viggo reading to him from a Danish book. Bliss! He had not understood very much at all, but he had always loved the sound of Viggo’s voice, and never more than when he spoke the soft, mellifluous Danish of his ancestors. Orlando would have been happy to listen to him read in Danish for hours and hours. He sometimes had, or had fallen asleep to the soft vowels of the language coming from Viggo, to the feeling of the chest beside him moving with speaking and rumbling with the deep sounds.

Spanish was good, too, but more of a seductive language. Danish sounded like - home, Orlando decided. Danish sounded like home.

He had Danish radio on for a bit today, and alternated between keenly wanting to learn the language and barely being able to stand listening to it for missing the sound of Viggo speaking it so much.

But yes, in general, reading in bed was good. He only really needed to focus on his book some more, rather than letting his thoughts drift places he did not really want them to go and having to re-read the same paragraph over and over and over again.

Orlando suddenly yawned and turned over to switch off the light and put the book away. Maybe it was time to sleep, after all.

  
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He awoke to the feeling of familiar hands caressing his face.

"Wake up, love. Wake up," an equally familiar voice was whispering softly into his ear.

Orlando did not want to open his eyes or give any indication that he was awake at all, for he knew that as soon as he awoke the dream would stop and he would find himself alone again, but the breath tickling his ear made his nose scrunch up and so he reluctantly opened one eye a slit and looked up.

The first hints of dawn had turned the sky a faint grey and it was giving enough light for him to take in the face above him. An achingly familiar and incredibly beloved face, slightly older than he remembered but essentially unchanged. Warm blue eyes smiled down at him and Orlando felt himself answering the smile.

"Viggo? What are you doing here?" he asked hesitantly, still unwilling to believe his eyes.

"I’m here because of all places on the world this is where I most want to be, Orlando," the vision replied and Viggo gently caressed his face again.

"In a holiday home in Denmark?" Orlando asked bewildered, then realized how stupid that had probably sounded. His brain clearly was not quite awake yet.

The vision laughed. "No, by your side, silly. Whether that be in a holiday home in Denmark, a tent in the desert or an igloo in Greenland matters little to me. I simply want to be where you are."

Dream-Viggo leaned down and gently kissed Orlando on the forehead. "I simply want to be with you."

Orlando felt tears gather in his eyes. This was definitely becoming one of the best dreams he had had of Viggo, ever. He only hoped that he would not wake up anytime soon. Wake up soon - or ever, really.

He was reluctant to admit to his weakness and his tears, but then reminded himself that this had to be a dream, and no-one really much cared what happened in a dream, and since this was his very own dream then he could very well cry if he wanted to cry.

So he did. And felt himself gathered up in warm and familiar arms. "Shh, baby, don't cry. I am here now. Everything will be good. You'll see. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you want me to go."

Orlando maneuvered one hand out of the blankets and around Viggo's arms to brush his tears away.

"Sorry for crying. It's just - you're just - you are so perfect, you are so much what I want, what I have always seemed to want. You with me. And yet I know that you are not really here. You're only a dream. And soon I will wake up and you will be gone. And I will be alone - again."

"Alone again? Oh no, Orlando, if it is within my power then you will never be alone again. I love you. I won't go."

Orlando smiled weakly, knowing it was stupid to fight with dream-Viggo. And yet he could not help it. This was all too familiar. "Yes, so you keep saying. Almost every night. But you never stay."

Viggo looked helpless at that. "I do? You dream of me?"

Orlando snorted. "Always. All the time. Sometimes when I am asleep. I miss you so much. Every single fucking day."

Viggo cradled him close at that, pressing Orlando's head against his chest and softly rocking them both. "Oh baby, I am sorry. I've been such a fool."

Orlando relaxed against his broad chest, simply enjoying the feeling of being held close for a while. But then he steeled himself. No matter how tempting it was, giving in to dreams was no good. He'd learned that the hard way. They made being awake so much worse. It was better not to give in to the temptation, as far as that was possible in a dream. It varied. Some dreams he had no control over at all in, some he could influence. This one thankfully seemed to be one of the latter ones. So, after another moment of being torn in two by the pain of being held in so familiar and yet so insubstantial arms, be drew away.

"Go, Viggo, please."

Dream-Viggo looked at him confused. "What? Orlando, I ... I don't understand ... . I thought?"

"It's too late for us, Viggo. It has been for a long time. I want you to go and leave me alone. I'm sorry. Please go?"

Viggo looked at him, clearly taken aback and clearly hurt.

What a realistic dream - Orlando was almost tempted to take his words back. But no. He'd wake up alone anyway, better to do it of his own volition.

"Do you really mean that?" Viggo asked in a small voice.

"Yes, I really mean that. Please go now."

"All right, Orlando. I'll go. But, please, remember that I love you. I will always love you."

Dream-Viggo backed away from the bed and seemed to be fighting tears. "Goodbye, Orlando." With bowed head the vision slipped from the room and the door creaked as is closed.

Orlando lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, rubbing tears from his eyes and hoping that the dream would end soon and he would not remember it in the morning.

  
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Viggo sat on the beach and watched the waves break on the shoreline. It was early morning and the beach quiet, the sea lying calm and tranquil - one could almost think it was a blanket. He'd left his things in the rental car and just come here to gather his thoughts and enjoy nature waking up. Seagulls were circling overhead and out on the ocean he could see a fishing ship return from its dawn fishing trip. He deeply inhaled the cold morning air, enjoyed the faint tang of salt it carried and tried to marshal his thoughts.

Maybe he should go for a swim. The sea looked very appealing and it might help him order his thoughts and decide what to do now.

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Orlando got up, restless. He had not slept well at all. And he remembered every second of the all too realistic dream. Sending Viggo away in his dreams hurt like hell every single time, but this one had seemed especially bad. He hated, hated doing it but he knew that letting him stay and then dreaming of falling asleep in his arms only to wake up alone hurt a lot worse.

For days, sometimes. For days and days.

He irritably dropped his boxers and climbed into his jeans and a scruffy shirt he hastily buttoned closed. A brisk walk along the beach, that's what he needed. Dawn was just on the horizon. Maybe the cold air would blow all these thoughts out of his head.

Grabbing the keys for the door and slipping into his trainers, he headed out of the house, to the beach.


	5. Chapter 5

The walk along the path through the woods that sheltered the houses from the sea wind was a brief one indeed and he soon was walking up the steep couple of steps that would lead him to the sand path across the dunes, through the reeds that grew on the sand.

He paused on top of the dune to take in the view, gazed down the sand, to the still sea and the arching sky overhead. It was breathtaking indeed, and it smelled of freedom and peace. It was magnificent, and he felt some of the unhappiness the dream had left him with slip away, slide away, like loose sand, to be washed away by the sea.

The beach itself was almost deserted, a jogger could be seen in the distance, running along the sand where waves broke on it, his dog running circles around him. Looked like it was a shepherd dog, from what Orlando could make out in the light of the rising sun. The sun had yet to clear the horizon, but the sky was already bright and red and it could only be a matter of minutes before it came up. There was fog on the horizon, though, so the sunrise itself would be veiled. A shame, Orlando thought, he'd have enjoyed watching it. It wasn't often that he got the time to do something like that.

‘Oh, Viggo would love this,’ he thought wistfully.

He looked down again, carefully choosing his footing down the other side of the dune, for the three or four steep steps one needed to take on the shifty sand to get down to the beach proper and the soft, flat stretch of sand below. There was someone sitting on the sand, about fifty yards or so away from him, he noticed. A guy, from the looks of it, apparently lost in contemplation of the sea.

Funny how he almost looked like Viggo in the twilight, with the haircut about the same that Viggo had sported when Orlando had seen some footage from his recent movie premiere. Hell, he even wore a similar jacket.

Orlando was intrigued.

He'd just walk by the guy, he decided, acting as if he was going down to the ocean - he was going to pause and say good morning and get a look at the guy and laugh at himself inwardly for how mad he was to mistake random strangers for his former lover.

Or how desperate.

The guy didn't move until Orlando was almost next to him, maybe two or three yards away. Then he started to turn around, apparently curious about who or what was encroaching on his space and silence.

Orlando's mentally prepared "Good Morning" slipped from his mind as he took in the face of the man across from him. He stopped, stunned, and the silence stretched a bit too long before he finally managed to croak out a startled and unbelieving: "Bloody hell! Viggo!?"

Viggo looked up at him just as startled and quickly got to his feet, shifting awkwardly and brushing sand from his trousers and hands. "Orlando. I … I can explain ..."

He looked good.

My god, but he looked good. Good enough to eat. Or do lots of other things to, Orlando decided. And his system seemed to have gotten over the shock of the unexpected meeting quickly, if the response to the sight of Viggo standing barefoot on a beach, dressed in old jeans and a tight t-shirt was any indication. Yummy, his brain supplied. Yummy, but sad and terribly nervous, the less sex focused part of his brain supplied. He'd rarely seen Viggo nervous, and never really when talking to him, not since before they became close in New Zealand. 'Why would he be nervous?' he asked himself.

He waved Viggo's stuttered beginning of an explanation away. "Never mind, Vig. Hell, I am not going to question whatever good fortune brought you to this beach! But what are you doing in Denmark? Aren't you supposed to be doing something artistic or other in Idaho, this being a year off for you and all?"

Orlando grinned. He knew he was babbling and he was keenly aware of the fact that they still stood awkwardly in front of each other, overly conscious of giving each other space, when once they would have hugged without a second thought. Or kissed each other passionately, in as deserted and private location as this. But this was Viggo, here! How great was that. Even if … he resolutely brushed the thought away.

Viggo smiled at him, that smile that darn if it didn’t make his heart melt straight through.

"Well, and aren't you supposed to be in Los Angeles?"

Orlando shrugged ruefully: "Touché, old man. But - seriously, what are you doing here?"

Viggo seemed to sink into himself, hesitant. Orlando frowned. Was something wrong? More wrong than the usual between them? But then Viggo visibly gathered his courage and replied: "I came to see you, Orlando."

Orlando's brain stopped. Viggo had come to see him? But why? What could this mean?

He didn't question the fact that Viggo had found him where no-one was supposed to know that he was - it seemed right to him that Viggo could find him whenever and wherever he wanted to. But why was he looking so – sad? Scared? Frightened?

His brain supplied a possible, and horrible, explanation: 'But - wait - what if he came to the house before he came here? What if he was there? What if it was real? What if I sent him away? What if that is why he looks so down? What if - OH MY GOD NO!’ Orlando panicked. What if he had been awake, what if it had been no dream?

He studied Viggo again, now, very closely, conscious that if that had been the case then every word now would count. At least Viggo was still speaking to him, that was a good sign. It probably had only been a dream. He was probably being paranoid. But … .

Right.

Time to face it like a man - or not face it at all, Orlando thought. He held up a hand.

"Viggo, I can't say how happy I am to see you, but before we say anything else, I need to ask you something -"

"If it's about how I found you,..."

Orlando shook his head, "No, that'd be interesting to know, but you can always come find me, wherever and whenever and whyever, okay? No, this might be strange but I need to know when you arrived and what you've been doing since then?" He took a deep breath and steeled himself for the answer.

It was Viggo's turn to look confused, but he answered readily enough: "Well, I landed last evening in Copenhagen, rented a car and drove here. Then I spent the night on the beach, waiting for the sunrise, and wondering when and if I should go knock on your door."

"So you've not been to my house yet?"

Viggo shook his head "No. No I haven't. Why?" He paused and looked blank, then suddenly sad. "If there's someone else now, Orlando, that's not ... I ..."

Viggo felt his heart break - that's the only logical conclusion he could draw from Orlando's concerned question and the relieved way he was looking now at Viggo’s answer. So, Kate had been wrong, had she? It was right that she did not hold Orlando's affection, but apparently neither did Viggo.

He sighed. "It was good seeing you, anyway, Orlando. I'd best be going." He turned. He knew it would look strange when he'd told Orlando minutes earlier that he had come here to see him, but he really could not stomach staying. Besides, Orlando was a clever boy, he'd figure it out.

Orlando was startled out of his relieved musings by the sight of Viggo turning away and mentally backtracked through what Viggo had just said. He'd kind of stopped listening after Viggo's ‘no,’ relief flooding his senses. So it had only been a dream after all! But now why was Viggo leaving?? If there's someone else now, Orlando... ran through his mind. Oh no! Trust Viggo to jump to a conclusion like that! He had to stop him, now. He needed, needed to know why Viggo had come to see him. 'Oh please be here for the reason I would go to see you, love. Please oh please oh please…' he thought. Then he shook himself. His love was leaving while he stood there thinking and wishing for stars! It was time for some action, not idle wishing.

Viggo was stopped after only a step - the longest and most painful step of all steps he remembered ever taking - by a hand on his arm. This was the first time they had touched in a year, and at the contact sparks seemed to run through both of them. He barely stopped himself from shivering, but he could not stop his mind from wailing a plaintive 'Orlando... .'

Orlando quickly walked around Viggo until he stood in front of him, never relinquishing the hold he had on his arm. He did not say anything until he could look Viggo in the eyes. It was only when he could gaze into troubled storm-blue eyes that he spoke, carefully choosing his words: "No, Viggo. No. There's no one else. There's never been anyone else."

He paused to relish the relief that slowly crept into Viggo's eyes. Then he hesitated, suddenly terribly self-conscious and awkward and unsure of how to explain himself. But then he reminded himself that this was Viggo, who understood. Who always understood Orlando and Orlando's senseless babblings, even when they confused Orlando himself. This was Viggo. He'd understand, if only Orlando gave him the chance to.

So he went on, shrugging: "It's only ...,” he remembered the dreams, and the heartbreak he went through over and over again. His voice grew small. "I keep having these dreams. Of you. Night after night after night. Of you showing up and telling me - things. And wanting to stay. And in the beginning I let you. But ..." he shivered at the memory "but I always, always wake up alone. And it hurts. It hurts so much, Vig."

He took a deep breath, conscious of the steady gaze on him, the arms that somehow had come ho hold his shoulders tightly, the warmth and strength seeping into his body from the contact.

"So I've taken to sending you away, in my dreams. Not waking up next to you hurts less when it is of my own ..." he sniffled. Who was he kidding, here? "Of my own ... initiative."

He looked down, breaking the gaze, finished. He'd said his piece. Now it was up to Viggo to decide how to take this rather strange confession.

Orlando felt himself being drawn into a tight embrace and with a sigh let his head come to rest on Viggo's shoulders. If nothing else, at least Viggo didn't seem to be offended by the fact that his former lover kept having dreams about him. He allowed his hands to come to rest on Viggo's tights and shivered when a strong hand began to rub circles on his back, while another one started to brush his hair back from his face. How much he had missed this.

How much he had missed being able to touch Orlando, Viggo thought. To be close to Orlando. To hold Orlando. His heart felt light, free of the insecurities that had been bothering him on the way here from the States. From what Orlando had just told him, he definitely did not need to fear competition in Orlando's life. Not right now. He knew he should have been sad that Orlando seemed to have endured so much pain, and he was, he was, but he was also relieved, so relieved. It seemed that he still might stand the chance of getting a second chance with Orlando. He vowed right there not to screw this one up. Not ever.

"So you thought ..." a gravelly voice whispered close to his ear.

"So I - I feared you had been there and I had sent you away, Vig." Orlando murmured, burying his face in Viggo's neck and encircling the other man with his arms, holding him tightly. Even the thought of sending Viggo away made him feel terribly cold. Viggo felt so right in his arms. He even smelled the same, Orlando noticed. Still the same aftershave. Still the same Viggo. How the hell had he managed to go years without feeling this? That smell in his nose, those arms around him? How was he ever to do so again? He couldn't. He'd die from the loneliness.

Viggo felt Orlando start to shake softly and after a minute the part of his neck where Orlando had buried his face started to feel damp. 'He's crying,' Viggo realized, startled, concerned. "Shh, baby, don't cry, Please don't cry. What is wrong?" He ran his hands down Orlando's back in what he hoped were calming strokes.

"Don't want to cry. Can't stop," Orlando's small voice informed him. Viggo could not help smiling. So much like Orlando, that answer. How he had missed him. He'd not really been alive these last years without him, only existing.

"Okay, baby. But can you tell me why you are crying?" he tried a different track. 'Please, please let me be able to help Orlando.' he asked - he didn't know what. The universe. Karma. Whatever. 'Please...'

"Don't ... would … wouldn’t ..." Orlando held him even tighter and steeled himself for admitting out loud the thought that had made him cry. 'Here goes nothing, Viggo, but you did ask...': "I would never send you away, Viggo. Never. No way. It hurts so much..."

"Oh love," Viggo sighed, the endearment slipping out unnoticed. He felt his eyes mist over, too. How much pain his poor Orlando had been enduring. His Orlando. His ... from that thought came the next sentence: "And I would never go, baby, not willingly. Never." He let his voice run out, content to stay there, standing on the beach in the dawn light, holding Orlando close.

After a while Orlando drew back and rubbed his hands over his eyes, gathered himself together. Viggo only reluctantly let him go. He'd felt so right in his arms. When Orlando looked at Viggo again and his eyes met the dark ones looking at him so warmly he took a deep breath and knew that the time for action had come, right now. This was why he had come to Denmark, after all. He might as well tell Orlando now, while he looked so confident and insecure and vulnerable and sexy and young and old and serious and calm and beloved and ... so much like what he wanted to see for the rest of his life.

Orlando watched Viggo look at him and wondered at the thoughts that were chasing themselves across the other man's face. He knew that look. Determined Viggo. But determined to do - what? He was content to wait for Viggo to decide what to do next, but it came as no surprise when he almost felt Viggo gather himself across the short and yet far too wide space between them and gaze at him seriously. He met the gaze from those warm blue eyes calmly, confident in his trust in Viggo, even after all that had happened and not happened between them.

Viggo took Orlando's right hand between both of this and looked deeply into his eyes. "Orlando ..." he began haltingly, then cleared his throat and started over. "Orlando, there's something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you a long time ago and something that I came here to Denmark to finally say. Do with it what you will, but know that I say it freely and openly, under no duress and with no expectation of any action on your part. I only need to tell you this." He paused and studied Orlando again. Orlando who seemed to be holding his breath, who suddenly looked flushed and scared and hopeful and incredibly excited, and whose hand had started to trembled slightly between Viggo’s.

Viggo smiled and drew Orlando’s hand up so it rested on his chest, holding it so that Orlando's fingers came to rest over his heart, then put one hand over it, the other one reaching up to run along Orlando's cheek. Really, this was not difficult to say at all, not with Orlando looking at him like that. All his fears flew away in the face of so much – dare he hope it was anticipation? Viggo's heart began to soar and he broke out in a wide smile, almost laughing with the joy and freedom of finally, finally voicing what he, what they both, had needed him to say for so long:

"I love you, Orlando." He ran his hand along Orlando’s cheek tenderly, never looking away from those brown eyes. "I love you, Orlando,” he repeated, just for good measure. The mouth the outline of which his fingers were now tracing was beginning to smile. He decided to repeat himself, louder, laugher and relief mixing into his voice. “I love you. I, Viggo - love you, Orlando. I love you! I love you!!" He couldn't seem to stop himself saying it and would have been content to repeat it until the sun sank and rose again and sank and until the end of time, it felt so good and right. He would have, too, if he had not found himself the recipient of a very enthusiastic hug that squeezed the air he used for speaking right out of his lungs.

"I love you too, you daft git," Orlando mumbled against his ear. Then he leaned back so he could meet Viggo's eyes, which were shimmering now with happiness. He looked into them to repeat himself. "I love you, Viggo. I love you. My god, but I love you."

Orlando seemed to be in the same predicament he had been in, Viggo observed, grinning at Orlando. They had come such a long way to say this. And now they were here, at last, in this moment.

He knew they needed to talk, but not now. He was not going to spoil this perfect moment with talk of past mistakes and regrets. But there might something else he could do to stop Orlando, something that did not involve past regrets, but something far better. His hands came up to cradle Orlando's face between them.

Orlando's breath caught at the look on Viggo's face and the hands that came to cradle his head, and he stopped in the middle of what he had been saying. A flash of desire ran through him, coming to rest and sizzle in his heart and in his groin, at the look on the face of his lover. Oh, yes, he knew that look, too! Determined, horny Viggo. A look that promised hot sex - no, not sex, never again sex between them - from now on they would be making love. No matter what else it involved, walls, tables, the floor, rough and hard or warm and tender; it would always involve love - the minute they got out of their clothes.

Despite the desire that was becoming almost a physical entity between them, their kiss was slow and deliberate, warm and tender. Neither one of them wanted to rush this, and so they looked into each others eyes, both smiling like loons, as their faces came closer and closer together and they finally bumped noses softly before turning their heads slightly and moving their gaze away before becoming cross-eyed.

The first touch of lips against lips sent so many emotions sizzling through Viggo it almost overwhelmed him. Familiarity, tenderness, love, regret, contentment, home, warm sun on his back, the taste of Orlando after he'd had his morning tea, before he brushed his teeth, after a night out with the Hobbits, of beer and smoke, long nights spent in each others arms ... he consciously stopped the cascade of memories to concentrate on the here and now, on soft lips only just barely resting against his, barely moving. Nothing overtly sexual about the kiss - not yet - and yet it made him ache and yearn all over. If he had been able to crawl into Orlando, to vanish into him, to never be seen by anyone but him, but always be with Orlando, never having to part, right now, he would have done so.

Orlando felt like, after spending years underwater, holding his breath to keep from drowning and almost blacking out from the pain of not breathing and keeping his breath in, he had finally reached the surface again and was able to take in deep gulps of air, sweet air. 'Maybe I can only breathe air when around Viggo' he thought, dizzily. 'He is my air.'

Then someone, they never were able to figure out who it had been, shifted slightly and moved his lips over the other pair. They both moaned at the sensation, the feeling of stubble scratching over stubble - neither one of them had shaved recently - and all thoughts were lost in a spiral of desire, of lips slipping open, mouths opening and tongues meeting, at first tentatively and tenderly but quickly becoming heated and urgent.

Orlando had no conscious memory of when or how his hands had come to be buried in the waistline of Viggo's jeans, but there they were, tugging at Viggo's t-shirt to loosen it from the snug fit it had into the jeans, so he could reach bare skin. Viggo's hands were equally busy, it seemed, alternately cradling his head and undoing the buttons of his loose shirt.

Viggo finally managed to get all the buttons open and tugged the front of Orlando's shirt out of his trousers and away from his body, to hang loosely by Orlando's sides. Orlando shivered when the cold morning air hit his chest, then moaned into the kiss when Viggo's hand followed right after the first touch of cold air.

"Oh my god. Viggo," he muttered into the kiss, not sure how much of it was understandable, but sure Viggo would get the meaning of it anyway, if not the content of it. He felt like he was wound so tightly that he might well explode any second, with any touch.

"Orlando," Viggo's voice answered him, equally indistinct. Then he had managed to tug Viggo's t-shirt out of his trousers completely and moved back from the kiss, just enough to tug it over Viggo's head. Viggo, too, shivered at the cold air, but all thought of the cold air was forgotten when Orlando's hands came to rest on his bare back. He groaned deeply, the vibration sending more shivers through Orlando, and moved his hands under Orlando's loose shirt to run them along the younger man's back in mirror to what Orlando was doing. They drew together the bare centimeters that still separated their bodies, skin now touching skin –

\- and stopped. The kiss suddenly turned back to being languid and tender and all the more intense for it, and their hands came to rest low on their backs. The feeling of skin touching skin was so familiar and had been so absent from their lives that they both wanted to savor the moment. The kiss continued, only broken now and again for brief gulps of air. Desire still sizzled in both of them, but the urgency of it was gone for now.

After a while they even broke the kiss, still standing close, still touching, caressing, holding each other, and rested their heads against each other. "So..." Orlando murmured, and Viggo could hear the smile in it. He drew back slightly so he could see it, too. Yep, Orlando was smiling, Well, grinning, actually.

"So?" Viggo asked, smiling himself. Grinning. Whatever.

"So, you love me, huh?" Orlando grinned wider, if that was possible.

"Yep," Viggo nodded.

"And I love you."

"Yep."

Orlando seemed to ponder that a moment, then shook his head and replied, simple. "Cool."

Viggo laughed. "Cool?"

Orlando nodded enthusiastically. "Definitely cool. Cool as in - wonderful, incredible, oh my god you make me so fucking happy cool. Cool as in ..." he stopped and his brows drew together. His whole face seemed to quiver and he suddenly buried his face against Viggo's shoulder and started to shake and sob in great wracking shocks that made Viggo's heart hurt for him. Viggo leaned his head against Orlando's and held him tightly, as tightly as he could without hurting him and started rocking them together, cold air against his back, warm Orlando against his front and warm Orlando hands clutching at his back.

He understood. He understood all too well. He had not thought that he would ever get to told Orlando again, not as a friend and never as a lover.

Orlando continued shaking with what Viggo hoped were tears of catharsis and relief and release, and Viggo felt himself starting to cry, too, against Orlando's long, gorgeous, curly black hair, that smelled so familiarly of the shampoo Orlando had been using for as long as he had known him. It was loose and the wind was blowing strands of it across Viggo's face, and the same wind was uncomfortably cold against his back, but he cared not one bit about any of that. He loved Orlando. Orlando loved him. He felt overwhelmed with the knowledge, felt the obstacles it might bring along looming on the horizon, yet felt his heart soar with the knowledge and with the conviction that none of that mattered. Not as long as he had Orlando. They'd take it all, together. Finally together. Forever together, if he had his way.

Orlando clutched Viggo tightly, overwhelmed by what he was feeling, dazed and startled and bewildered by the intensity of it all and the amount of pain he was in, when he should have been happy. He was happy, but he was also hurting. He felt years of tension and loneliness, of dreams and empty mornings uncoil themselves inside him and rear their ugly head, trying to take him down into their darkness again, only to slip away one by one, being defeated and banished by Viggo's warm and comforting presence, Viggo's strong shoulder under his head, Viggo's arms holding him securely and tightly, by the memory oh what I love you sounded like from Viggo’s lips.

He seemed to be surrounded by the warmth that was Viggo, and he wanted it to never stop. He knew that it would probably take him a long time to fully come to believe in the reality and truth that was Viggo in his life, in the fact that he was really here, really here, not only here as a dream specter to vanish into the morning light, but here in his life for real, here to stay. For now and forever, if Orlando had his way.

Viggo was holding him tightly and Orlando knew that he understood that Orlando needed this release, this simply standing here together, needed to let it all go. That was one of the best things about Viggo, Orlando thought. He understood him. Even when they had not agreed, Viggo had always understood him. As he seemed to do now. Nevertheless, Orlando thought, he should probably say something, if only to stop Viggo from worrying needlessly.

He consciously tried to calm himself down and when he had mastered his sobs enough to only be sniffling and hiccupping occasionally he whispered against Viggo's slightly damp, he noted with a fleeting feeling of embarrassment, ear: "I'm sorry. It's just ...".

"...a bit much," Viggo completed his sentence when Orlando hesitated. Viggo felt the Brit smile against his ear.

"Exactly. Seems you can still complete my thoughts, Viggo."

Viggo smiled and rubbed Orlando's back. "That one was easy. I feel the same way. And I've had all the way from Los Angeles to here to prepare myself for this moment. Not that all the time in the world could really have prepared me for it." Orlando smiled and shivered.

Viggo noted it. "It's cold here, love."

Orlando smiled at the endearment, then reluctantly let Viggo go. "You're right. And I see you managed to take off your shirt." They both grinned at the sentence, a quote from a night of watching movies together, curled up in their bed in New Zealand, repeated as one of their private jokes countless tomes in wardrobe – and other places.

"Indeed. And whose fault is that?"

Orlando bent over to pick the shirt up from where it had fallen on the sand and shook it out. "Don't look at me like that - whose fault is it that I got carried away?" Viggo grinned and took the shirt from him. Orlando looked apologetic: "I am afraid it’s a bit cold and damp, but what do you say about swinging by your car to get your stuff and then I show you to my place and make you some breakfast?"

And just like that, he was staying with Orlando, it seemed. Viggo smiled, shrugged his shirt on and drew Orlando close by the lapels of his shirt, buttoning it up and kissing him softly on the lips. "That sounds good. Lead the way, oh fearless elf."

He slapped Orlando's buttock and the younger man tried to look affronted, but spoiled it with a giggle. Then he grabbed his hand and almost force-marched Viggo off the beach, up to the dunes and the path through the woods, towards his holiday home, breakfast, and the future.


	6. Chapter 6

Breakfast had consisted of omelets with mushrooms, of toast and yam, of soft caresses, long looks and tender touches. A lot less awkwardness than they had expected, but they just seemed to fall back into old patterns with so much ease that there were very little hesitations at all, if sometimes words that were chosen more carefully than they would have been years ago.

Now they were sitting on the comfortable couch, resting together with their legs entangled on the coffee table and Viggo's head resting against Orlando's chest, with Orlando's fingers carding through the short hair and Viggo's hand resting on his thigh, drawing soft circles there. Passion seemed to have moved into the background for now, leaving time for tenderness and becoming acquainted with one another again. Viggo's other hand held a mug of coffee which they were sharing.

Orlando studied the top of Viggo's head curiously, then asked the question that had been banging around in his head for the last minute or two.

"So, how did you know where to find me?"

Viggo sighed softly and snuggled into Orlando more comfortably. He hoped Orlando would take this well and not become angry with Kate over having broken his confidence: "Kate."

"Kate?" Orlando asked, his fingers continuing to move through Viggo's hair.

"Kate told me where you are. She called me and told me you had vanished and asked me if I knew where you had gone." He sighed, set the mug down and moved his hand from Orlando's thigh up to his own shoulder, so he could take one of Orlando's hands into his own. He started running his fingers along the long, tapered fingers of the younger man, then went on. "I didn't know, of course." A hint of pain had entered his voice and Orlando squeezed the fingers wrapped around his to show Viggo that he understood the pain that had come with the distance between them. Viggo squeezed back and went on. "But I agreed to ask around, see if the hobbits knew, and agreed to meet her to see if I could help her. She said she didn't know where you had gone and was afraid that Robin might try something stupid, like get the police involved."

Orlando was confused. "But why would Kate ...? I told here where I had gone."

Viggo smiled. "To get me to meet her. To get me to talk to her. She's a clever one, that girl. She drew how I was feeling about you out of me. Then she told me where you had gone and told me to go and get you."

Orlando smiled and decided that he owed Kate - a lot. He didn't know what, but a lot. Something along the lines of his eternal gratitude, if this worked out.

"She's definitely clever. Without her, I think I would have gone insane over the last year or so. She just lets me ramble and rage and moan about you and Robin and everything. She's a good friend. But –“ he moved the hand not entangled with Viggo's to hug him around the chest, tightly if a little awkwardly. "She's only a friend, Viggo. Nothing else. There's ..." his voice grew small "...there's not been anyone since New Zealand, not really, not emotionally. Since you."

Viggo sighed at the loneliness he thought he heard in Orlando's eyes. He squeezed his hand again. "Same here, love. Same here." He sighed and turned around to look into Orlando's eyes, met the calm gaze and smiled ruefully. "We've been fools, haven't we." He looked down and started to trace patterns on Orlando's chest with his index finger. "Too afraid to say something, too scared of the obstacles we would have to surmount, too scared of holding you back, of clipping your wings, of making you regret staying with me, of growing old and feeble on you..."

Orlando's breath hitched at the pain in Viggo's voice. He let go of both of the Dane's hands and gathered him in his arms. "Oh love. I can’t say where we would be now if we had not separated after shooting Rings, but this I can say now, and tell you that it is the truth and will not change being true. Not today, not tomorrow, not next week, next year, or in the next century, should we grow ancient and see it, okay?" He felt Viggo nod against his chest and squeezed him tightly before loosening his embrace to lift Viggo's chin with his fingers. "Please look at me for this, love, ok?" Viggo looked up, meeting Orlando's determined gaze, and nodded.

"I've had my time to soar, now. I know how empty fame and success are. I don't know if I needed this time to soar and who I would have become if I had not had the last five years happen the way they did, but I have been there and done it, now. Back in New Zealand I was young, and scared, and feared confessing my love for you, lest you reject it."

When Viggo seemed about to say something Orlando gently put his hand against the older mans lips. He shivered at the soft kiss that was placed against his fingers, but understood that Viggo would let him say what he had to, that Viggo understood that he needed to finish this: "So I did not say anything, thinking it safer to let us trickle out bit by bit, slowly moving my heart away from you." He shrugged, interjecting ruefully; "Not that it worked."

Then Orlando went on, serious again: "I would love to be able to say that I would not have regretted staying with you, ever, but I do not know where we would be had that been our path. So I understand and respect and appreciate what you did for me, that you gave me the space you did, that you let me fly off and make my own mistakes, and discover for myself just how lonely life can be. I hate the pain it brought us both, but I know it might have been necessary to get me here.”

He paused and leaned in to kiss Viggo on the lips quickly, then smiled and leaned back to continue: “But, well, I am here now. I have had my time to soar, which you gave me. I don't like that you chose for me, that you did not offer me to stay with you, but then I did not tell you about my feelings either, did not give you the choice to stay with me. Pushed you away by silence and inaction, knowing that inaction would lead us away from each other. So we both are guilty of making those choices, of maybe being too noble for out own good, yeah?"

He smiled a smile that was almost a grimace, and was answered by the same expression on Viggo's face, and a slight nod.

"But, yes, anyway - I've been there, I've done that. And I don't want to do it again. I am tired of flying alone. I've had enough fame to last me a lifetime. I have enough money to never need to work again. And I have one wish left, one thing that I want, that I need to do with my future. Will you grant me the freedom and the wish to do that, Viggo?"

Viggo looked at him, studied him, Orlando looking so determined and so wise. And he knew he would grant Orlando whatever it was that he was asking of him. He nodded, waiting for what Orlando would say, even if it meant letting Orlando walk out of his life again. What Orlando wanted, Viggo would give him.

Orlando smiled. "Will you share my life with me, Viggo?"

Viggo smiled, and then grinned at him. "Of all the questions, Orlando! ... Yes. Fucking hell, yes! That is, if you are willing to share mine?"

Orlando grinned back at him, feeling almost giddy. This was not where he had planned to go when he started taking - this was a whole lot better than what he had planned, though. These words seemed to have come straight from his heart. "Absolutely. No chance of getting rid of me again, now. Once was already one time too many. I am not letting you go again."

They were embracing again. They seemed to have a tendency for doing that, Orlando noted. Not that he minded. Hell, not that he minded? He loved it. And if they had five years of missed embraces to make up, he knew they would be hugging for a long time. Finally. Forever. And doing other things, too, maybe? He felt desire curl in his stomach at the thought. Hell, yeah.

At that thought, he leaned back to look into Viggo's eyes: "How long can you stay?"

Viggo grinned and gave his lips a quick peck: "Same as you. Almost three weeks."

"Three weeks?" Orlando asked, confused. "But I only have a week before ... ."

Viggo shook his head. "You have three. Kate is sorting it all out."

"Bless her," Orlando grinned. "What about Robin and that police story, though?"

"I don't know how serious that it, but maybe you should call Kate and talk to her about it, just in case," Viggo frowned. Robin making Orlando's life hell was all they needed now, pushy hyena that she was.

Orlando nodded, then moved in to kiss Viggo. "I think I shall. Call Kate, that is. Later. To figure out what she should tell Robin. To strangle her. And to thank her for giving me back my love, my life. My everything. My Viggo."

He kissed Viggo again, more deeply, and from the way Viggo shifted against him he knew that the desire that had been dormant this long was awakening again in them both. He shifted in turn, pushing Viggo back and moving his legs until they were both lying stretched out on the couch, him leaning over Viggo. He smiled down into blue, oh so blue eyes, and saw an answering smile in the beloved eyes gazing up at him. A smile, and desire, definitely desire.

His hands once more moving to loosen Viggo's t-shirt from his trousers, he added one more sentence before delving down to kiss the lips he ached to feel all over his body. "Oh, I shall call her ... later – much later."

"Good. I have a feeling you'll be busy for some time," Viggo answered with a smile and a hungry look, drawing Orlando's face down with his hands.

So what could Orlando do but shut him up, smug bastard that he was? Sexy, hot, desirable, smug bastard. Beloved smug bastard. But smug. Yep, that definitely needed changing.

So Orlando ran his hand lightly over the bulge in Viggo's tight jeans and smiled as the smug look turned into a moan. Much better.

Then their lips touched and he was far too busy being kissed breathless to worry about anyone being smug whatsoever.

  
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Viggo ran his hands up along Orland's backside, bunching up the loose material as he went, until he ended up with two hands full of shirt at Orlando's shoulder blades. He left it there, moving his hands down again to now run along Orlando's deliciously bare back. He loved the feel of that expanse of skin under his hands, familiar and yet unknown, for Orlando's body had definitely changed in the years since they had last touched in this way, become more filled out, firmer, more muscled.

Orlando moaned into the kiss as Viggo ran his hands along his back, and Viggo gently rand his fingers along the scar along his spine, both from knowing that the skin was extra sensitive there and because it reminded him of so much. Of hours he had spent just resting with Orlando when his back was giving him bad trouble, when moving became painful. Of hours they had spent together making love, when his hands had mapped that same scar over and over again. Orlando seemed to remember the same things, for Viggo definitely felt him smile against his mouth.

Then all thought was lost again as Orlando moved his hands under Viggo’s t-shirt, running them along the soft skin of his abdomen that shivered at his touch. He tugged at Viggo's t-shirt impatiently and Viggo took the hint, breaking the kiss and shifting. They both sat up and quickly divested themselves of their shirts - disrobing each other slowly and carefully would have to wait for some other time when there was less urgency between them.

Their chests naked they moved together again, Orlando moving until he was straddling Viggo's thighs, Viggo moving so his feet came to rest on the floor and he could lean back on the couch, lean against the back of it with Orlando straddling him. His jeans were becoming uncomfortably tight and since he was not wearing anything under them, having changed into them in the car before heading to the beach, the zipper pressed against his penis most uncomfortably.

Orlando had noticed the bulge in Viggo's jeans - not that he was much behind, but thankfully his slacks left him more room - and with a mischievous look in his eyes lightly ran his fingers over the cloth covered bulge. Viggo groaned at the light touch.

"What are you trying to do? Make me come in my pants?" He would, too, if Orlando did not stop, he was that excited.

Orlando took in the glazed look in the older man's eyes and knew that he probably could actually make Viggo do just that. He briefly considered it, but decided against it.

"No way. There are other places where I would much rather have you come."

"Oh, are there?" Viggo panted, letting his hands trace patterns over Orlando's chest and tweaking his left nipple with his hand.

Orlando groaned and threw his head back at the sensation, a movement which made Viggo lean in and lick a line along his throat. Orlando groaned even more deeply, the replied - somewhat breathlessly, Viggo noted smugly - "Oh yeah. With less clothing between us, for one!"

Viggo leaned in to lick Orlando's nipple, keeping his lips close to the brown aureole so his breath was wafting over it with his replied "Is that so?" His hands had been moving down as he spoke and were now busy opening the fly on Orlando's slacks. Orlando was lost in the sensation and almost came when he felt Viggo's hand touch his shaft, caress it lightly through the gap in the material. "Well, then we shall see what I can do about that."

Orlando turned his face back down, his eyes wide and dark with lust and need. "How about," his hands moved decisively to the fly of Viggo's jeans "clothes, off. Now!" with that he drew the zipper down and it was Viggo's turn to moan as he felt the younger man's hand on his shaft.

"Excellent idea!"

Orlando moved off Viggo and they both quickly stood up and just as quickly divested themselves of their clothing. Then they stood there, taking in the sight of each other, naked and aroused, facing each other, close enough to almost be touching.

A moment of stillness caught them, which eyes used to hungrily map familiar yet foreign terrain, where hands and mouths remembered places they had explored in great detail many times before, where brains and hearts remembered just what places elicited moans, which ones led to groans, and which ones were terribly ticklish.

Then the moment was lost as they moved together with a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a sight, skin touching skin, standing there naked and embracing in front of the couch. Viggo turned and sank down on it, taking Orlando with him to lie atop of him.

Arousal burned between them at the feeling of skin moving against skin, of bare chest sliding against bare chest, of long legs entangling and finally, finally the long and familiar and incredibly hot slide of penis against penis. They both panted, eyes meeting and confirming that they were both incredibly close, that they had gone too long without each other to last much longer, that passion had them firmly in its grip.

Then their mouths clashed in an urgent and open-mouthed kiss, their tongues met in the air between them, and their bodies began the familiar and urgent rhythm that would lead them both to completion.

Hands tangled in hair, ran along shoulders and arms, along chests and flanks, sneaking between bodies to tweak and caress painfully aroused nipples, grabbed and clawed at backs, sure to leave bruises, until finally their almost continual moans and groans and indistinct and hurried mutterings between urgent kisses of "Oh baby," "Close, so close," "Do that again," "Love you so much" reached their peak.

Viggo came first, with a long and drawn out groan of "Oh god, oh Orlando," followed only seconds later by Orlando's own climax. He had not been able to hold back when he felt Viggo shudder against him and come all over their stomachs. "Oh Viggo, Oh god, yes." he groaned, shaking with the intensity of his climax and sinking down to bonelessly lie across Viggo, his head resting on the older man's chest.

Viggo moved his arms until Orlando's head and back were cradled closely in his arms, chest resting against chest, Orlando’s weight on top of him beloved and familiar, and then they lay like that, limp in the aftermath of both the physical and the emotional release that had come with their frantic coupling.

Minutes passed or maybe hours or days, Viggo didn't know and didn't really care, he would have been content lying there forever with Orlando cradled against him, except for the fact that their stomachs were covered in cooling puddles of sticky come and threatened to be stuck together, and Orlando was probably getting cold. And cold was hell on Orlando's back.

So he turned his head slightly, shifted his gaze from where he had been staring at the wooden planks of the ceiling without taking them in at all to look down at Orlando. "Love, are you awake? Are you okay?"

"Hmm ... awake, yes." Orlando paused, and Viggo both felt and heard him smile, if he did not exactly see it, what with Orlando's cheek lying pressed against his chest. "And I am - fantastic. Better than I have been in years."

Orlando gently kissed Viggo's chest, and felt the arms around him squeeze him in response. He heard the older man's chest rumble as Viggo replied. "So am I. Gods yeah, so am I." Then Viggo ran his hands up and down Orlando's back one more time and added "But what do you say to taking this to bed? You must be getting cold."

Viggo felt Orlando nod agreement, his stubble scratching across his chest. Then the Brit shifted, mischievously licked the nipple so conveniently close to his mouth - something he was pleased to note that elicited a deep groan and an interested twitch from lower down - and got up.

"Definitely. Plus you could use some cleaning up, Vig. You're, ah, slightly on the sticky side."

Viggo reached down to pick up his shirt and used it to dry the come from his stomach, before he got up and arched an eyebrow at his lover. "And whose fault is that?"

Orlando moved in and kissed him, before taking his hand and leading him to the bedroom. "Fault? I don't know about that. But it definitely was my pleasure. And I promise you that the next time you come, it won't leave a mess on your stomach."

Viggo groaned and followed his lover to the bedroom and the bed, pushed him down on it and started another session of fumbling hands and urgent kisses that were eagerly returned.

Oh yeah, he could definitely live with that.

  
THE END


End file.
